OK, time for the latest installment of the soap opera that is my life.
Sunday afternoon, I had things all set up to work on newspaper stories fully expecting to knock out five or six. But first, I needed some lunch. Which meant taking a shower because it was much less trouble to swing by Dairy Queen for a burger than fix something myself.
Then the fun started.
Dropped the soap. Tried to pick it up. Got off-balance. Wound up on my ass, unhurt but unable to get to my feet on wet tile.
A neighbor found me almost exactly 24 hours later. The shower ran full hot the entire time. I was able to drag myself out of the spray, but still couldn't get up. Prolonged exposure to intense heat left me with something called rhabdomyolosis. I was hauled off to the nearest decent hospital (40-45 miles away) Monday night and am still there.
I've been told it will probably take at least two weeks at a rehab facility to even be able to stand, let alone walk, without someone holding onto me. Since I already need a cane to walk, I'm looking at either hiring a live-in caregiver or moving to another town with some kind of assisted-living facility and never going outside by myself again.
I have no idea what my plans are moving forward. I think the newspaper career is over. It's taken me more than an hour to compose this little bit. There's no way I could do a dozen articles every week on a deadline.
I have mapped out things for the next chunk of the story, but writing, editing and posting will be a slow process. Maybe the situation will improve if I can return to a more work-conducive environment.
One thing I am sure of is Gary Robinson isn't done. Dude hasn't even tapped all his girlfriends yet. He still has virgins to deflower.
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